


soon, my friend

by mingowow



Series: ‧͙⁺˚*･༓ a place in the stars ༓･*˚⁺‧͙ [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Space, Childhood Friends, M/M, it's more pre-space because they are kids training to go to space but yknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/pseuds/mingowow
Summary: Minghao is seven years old when he's sent away. He finds himself a new family, a group of misfits that, like him, were plucked from their lives and homes and loved ones and stationed here to develop and learn.





	soon, my friend

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd as always; sorry for any mistakes!

Space is infinite. It’s easy to say you understand that but there’s no real way to wrap your head around it, even when you are floating through it yourself. Even when you look every which way and there’s just darkness and silence and nothing else; your brain tells you it ends eventually, it has to. Darkness can’t go on forever, there’s always light to be found. But the universe is much more than any brain could ever conjure up.

When Minghao was very young, he spent most of his days indoors. He was one of the lucky ones in his area, that despite the walls and lack of fresh air, he was exposed to elements of the outside world. He had dug around in dirt, plucked flowers from their stems, watched parades of ants marching. Most schooling was done through screens and buttons and simulation, but he was one of few in China who got to actually touch and feel and experience the real world. Or what was left of it to experience.

There weren’t many kids where he was from, or at least the number fluctuated quite a bit. Children he befriended would sometimes fall ill and then suddenly he wouldn’t see them anymore. His mother always told him they were sent off to other cities to get better. 

There were periods of time where it was only he and another boy playing indoors, digging around in the dirt until black crescents appeared under their fingernails and watching guppies swim around like wisps of smoke. Sometimes they’d see buses of so many other kids (more than ever showed up where they were) drive by and they’d ask to join them. But their requests were always denied. 

He’s seven years old when he’s sent away and his mother doesn’t cry or seem sad to see him go. He spends a lot of years wondering if she was glad to be rid of him. He was always a relatively well behaved child; he excelled in school, he never ventured outside without an adult, he followed his parents’ instruction. Despite the ache he feels in his chest, he does his best to ignore it. There isn’t room to be overly emotional in this environment, so he busies himself in training and work to try and forget about his family. That was in the past now anyway.

It’s terrifying at first, rooming with boys he doesn’t know from all over the world. They all speak different languages and he’s overwhelmed. He always hated visiting the doctor back home and he cries a little when he has to visit the one here, but soon he drifts to sleep and wakes up with no memory of what happened to him. There’s just an itchy bandaged spot on the back of his neck and every time he scratches at it, he’s told off by one of the adults around.

He finds himself a new family, a group of misfits that, like him, were plucked from their lives and homes and loved ones and stationed here to develop and learn. He grows particularly close to one of the eldest boys from Korea, Seungcheol, whose surly exterior worried him at first. But trickles of kindness bubbled out of him once you were able to break past that. Joshua, an American boy, becomes a close confidant too, helping him with his numerous language studies. 

He also teaches Minghao how to reign in his emotions, because they look out for that kind of thing here. The kids who can’t control them are sent back home (so they’re told) and Minghao doesn’t want to go back home, he can’t. This is his home now, they are his family. So whenever he finds himself growing immensely upset or lonely or on the verge of tears, he practices the tricks Joshua showed him. He steadies his breathing the best he can and presses his thumb to reach of his fingertips; pointer to middle to ring to pinky. It’s always worked so far; his monitor hasn’t gone off in all the time he’s been here.

He sees it happen once. They’re watching clips from previous failed expeditions and truthfully, it is very difficult to see knowing what the outcomes were. Everyone remains composed though, until a boy one year older than Minghao begins wailing. It’s not soft sniffles or misty eyes, it’s full-blown chest rattling sobbing. The other boys are all startled and their instructor hastily shuts off the movie when a loud beeping emits from the crying boy. He’s escorted out and Minghao doesn’t see him again for about a week. The boy has another breakdown the first day he’s back and when Minghao wakes up the next morning, it’s like he was never there at all. 

Two years go by before Mingyu arrives. Nine years old is a bit on the higher end for a new applicant to join the program; most of the children brought here are between five and seven. So if the program offered a slot to a new boy Minghao’s age, it must have been for good reason.

Mingyu is friendly and chatty; he’s cute enough that the compound staff seem to dote on him as if forgetting that he’s there learning how to potentially save the planet and the species. He’s seen as a child, which Minghao resents a little because he isn’t shown nearly that much affection even though they are the same age. But despite being slightly envious, he likes the boy enough.

It’s nice to have someone to spar with, because Joshua’s far too nice to really argue with him and Seungcheol is much too intimidating. So Minghao feels comfortable enough pushing Mingyu’s buttons or calling him out when he does something dumb during training or simulation. At first, he was quiet and submissive. But it didn’t take much of Minghao’s antagonizing for him to start firing back. Sometimes, despite being slightly annoyed, he finds himself wanting to smile during arguments.

“Why do you hate me?” Mingyu asks him one day, ignoring the food on his tray and instead staring at the other across from him. Seungcheol and Joshua look up from their meals and exchange looks, but they don’t speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he answers simply, spooning undercooked rice into his mouth.

“Then why do you always fight with me?”

“I don’t fight with you. We have to talk together and let each other know--”

“But you don’t talk to Joshua or Seungcheol like you do to me!” Mingyu’s face has gone slightly red and before Minghao can process the other boy’s anger, his monitor begins to beep. Most of the lunchroom looks over at them then.

“Candidate 406, please calm yourself or you will be escorted to the infirmary,” a disembodied voice announces throughout the speakers in the room. Mingyu’s anger slips into a look of confusion and then something like embarrassment.

Joshua rubs at his back and suddenly Minghao feels guilty, like he’s done something wrong. Even if it was never malicious in its intent, he made someone feel somehow distraught. Enough so that his monitoring system went off.

The beeping eventually stops and the room goes back about its business. Minghao’s rice has gone cold and he has no appetite but before he can dispose of the food, the wireless intelligence hooked up to his body chides him into eating more.

Mingyu shares a room with some younger boys, ones who began the program closer to his entrance date. He’s in another sector than Minghao because of it and normally they aren’t meant to mingle in one another’s sleeping quarters (there was no point, as everything else was done together throughout the facility) but Minghao wanders that way anyway.

He attempts to scan his palm on Mingyu’s door but it angrily chirps at him and shines red. He’s about to turn back when the door opens from the inside and there before him, dressed in his sleeping uniform, is Mingyu. The room is dim behind him and Minghao can make out the forms of a few sleeping boys before Mingyu locks the door behind himself and begins down the hall. He throws a look over his shoulder at Minghao and that’s all it takes for him to follow.

Minghao loves the greenhouse. It’s bright and big and full of things he never would have seen had he stayed back in China. It’s so alive and lush and has a smell to it that is so foreign to him, but he revels it. It’s almost addicting. It’s no surprise that Mingyu loves the room too and that’s where they end up, sitting on the ground between rows of luscious, vibrant plants. 

Minghao doesn’t know if Mingyu is still angry or ashamed or what (reservedly so, because there’s no obnoxious beeping or commands over the intercom system). But he quickly answers that without being prompted.

“It’s never gone off during practice or training. My heart is racing half the time then.” There was no doubt to all of the applicants’ mental and physical abilities here. If they weren’t all smart and capable, they wouldn’t have been selected. Psychologically though, he’s begun to realize, that can’t always be anticipated. It must be difficult to determine how someone will handle all of their emotions when they are so young.

“It’s not monitoring our heart rate or what we do physically. It keeps track of... how we feel, what we are thinking.” Mingyu’s face falls and it makes something inside Minghao’s own chest twinge. But he ropes it back in before it grows too much. “It’s not a big deal that it happened once, don’t worry. It happens sometimes.”

“Has it happened to you?” he asks, his eyes hopeful for some bit of comfort in the form of similarity. Minghao shakes his head a little.

“No.” There’s silence except for the humming of the greenhouse lights.

“Why don’t you like me?” Minghao hadn’t been expecting that. Obviously he likes the other boy, or so he thought it was obvious with how much time he willingly spends with him when given the chance.

“I like you. I’m sorry I... pick fights. It’s just fun. I do it because I feel comfortable with you.”

Mingyu makes a face and Minghao doesn’t know how to register it but he’s reminded of guards ruffling the other boy’s hair in hallways and kitchen workers patting his cheeks. It’s fondness (maybe?), something of the sort.

“That’s a funny way to show you like someone.”

“You never messed around with friends back home?” Mingyu seems to think for a moment before shrugging, his fingers dancing along the length of a watering hose beside him.

“Not like that. But I didn’t really have a lot of friends anyway. I spent most of my time with my mom.” 

Minghao feels a jolt in his chest and he quickly recalls Joshua’s advice, pressing his fingertips against one another as he counts and tries to regulate his breathing with a long exhale. 

“Minghao, are you okay?”

Minghao nods quickly and tells him they should get to bed before lights out is called.

There are a few drawbacks to living in the compound. Beyond the constant surveillance and monitoring, Minghao misses dreams. He’s not sure what exactly caused it and truthfully, he hadn’t realized it until one of the younger boys mentions something during daily recreation time.

“I don’t dream anymore, is something the matter with me?” Chan asks. Minghao and the others (they had subconsciously formed their own little group sometime back) look over at him and there’s a mixture of expressions. Seungcheol seems in deep thought and Joshua looks almost sad. Minghao can’t read Mingyu’s face well; ever since he learned about the in depth monitoring they are all subjected to, he’s been more guarded. His eyes seem less sparkly and the staff has gradually stopped doting on him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I can’t remember the last time I had one either,” Joshua admits, finally breaking the silence as he shuffles the cards in his hands over and over.

“We probably won’t remember any dreams we have for a long time, Channie.” Seungcheol’s words are directed the youngest in the group but it seems to hit them all. 

That night he lays in bed and tries to recall the last dream he had but all he can remember is having a few nightmares as a young boy, scampering into his parents’ bed and burrowing beneath the covers. He doesn’t recollect details or visuals or content. He doesn’t remember how it felt waking up from one and picking out the things that stuck once you emerged from it.

He lays there for what feels like an eternity, until his monitor chastises him into closing his eyes and giving in to sleep.

Minghao also misses laughter. Sure, he enjoys his time with his friends and there are smiles and chuckles to be had (when the moment allows for it; unwarranted silliness results in rather harsh punishments), but it’s not like how it was when he was younger. Unlike dreams, Minghao remembers laughing. He remembers tickles from his mother resulting in stomach hurting laughter, he remembers giggling alongside the other boy at the evaluation center in China, his face hurting from shrieking so happily when his parents explained he’d maybe get to visit the sky some day.

The easiness of that kind of joy isn’t common anymore. When he does laugh, little puffs of air and turns of the corners of his lips, it almost feels unnatural. It’s like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing because laughter usually means a lack of focus (or so they have engrained into them). But there are moments when he can’t help it, when the sound bubbles out of him before he realizes it. 

Those occurrences tend to happen when he’s with Mingyu.

For all his mental and physical prowess, the boy is a bit on the clumsy side. He’s occasionally reprimanded for stumbling with his footing during fully immersive simulations and he’s been known to accidentally drop equipment from time to time. Part of Minghao feels bad for him, what with the sheepish guilt constantly etched onto the other’s face, but it’s amusing too. By the time the boys are fifteen years old, it’s gotten to the point where he can almost predict it.

So when he watches Mingyu get tangled in the tubing for his suit, unable to unknot himself, he laughs. He laughs loud and outwardly, enough that the glass of his helmet fogs momentarily and the rest of the candidates go from watching Mingyu to staring at Minghao. It takes him a second to realize his monitor may go off so he quickly tries to calm himself, touching his thumb to each of his fingers.

“Candidate 117--”

“I’m fine. I’m fine, sorry,” he announces, clearing his throat and willing the swell of emotions that suddenly expanded in him to shrink. There’s no beeping and for that he’s grateful but he catches Mingyu openly staring at him (tubing still looped around his legs and torso) and his skin begins to feel warm.

After that incident, he tries to avoid the other boy but it’s nearly impossible when they’ve spent every day together for the past how many years. Mingyu is naturally drawn to him and it’s not like Minghao can openly voice any discomfort when he feels the other hovering around him and sit beside at every given chance. 

It becomes a distraction, wondering what it is about Mingyu that makes him teeter on the edge of inappropriate behavior. It’s not just laughter, it’s other emotions too. At times there’s annoyance and anger, during simulation drills when Mingyu flat out ignores Minghao’s advice and suggestions. When those instances happen with the others, Minghao brushes them off and they discuss things calmly. But with Mingyu, it feels so much more... personal.

“Why didn’t you listen to me when I told you to veer left?” he interrogates heatedly once he’s able to remove his helmet. Their groupmates help him with undoing his suit, but he’s too focused on sending eye daggers towards Mingyu.

“I didn’t see what you--”

“You can’t ignore everything I say! _Trust_ me more.” Mingyu is worrying his lip between his teeth, face resembling that of a scolded puppy. But he nods and Minghao sighs, only then realizing how heated he was getting. He counts his fingers again and lets the aggravation slip away.

Minghao cares for the boy, in a way that goes beyond how all of his friends care about each other. They all are concerned about one another’s well being and health but with Mingyu, it seems a bit more particular.

For all the things he’s good at, Mingyu struggles with some language studies, particularly Chinese. All candidates are expected to have a grasp on multiple languages and while Mingyu has advanced decently with Russian, English, and German, Minghao’s native tongue seems to not stick as easily.

“God, I’m never going to get this,” the Korean boy groans, his hand roughly rubbing over his face. They’re in one of the quieter areas of the facility studying together, Minghao’s nose buried in a book regarding engineering theory.

He allows himself to pause, looking over at his friend and smiling lightly. It’s clear how exhausted he is but they both have progress evaluations in the coming week so sleep is on the backburner for now.

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Like tutoring? Would they even allow that?” he asks, his head cocking to the side in a way that Minghao finds oddly endearing. He hesitates briefly before reaching a hand up and smoothing back Mingyu’s messy hair and thankfully the boy doesn’t flinch or seem bothered by it.

“Not real tutoring. But we can talk in Chinese more. You only talk in Korean anyway...”

“Because _you_ always spoke to me in Korean from the beginning.”

“Because you were new and _I_ was multilingual.” Mingyu huffs but it’s without any real annoyance as he plays with the corner his book.

“I need your help please,” Mingyu tells him in his accented Chinese that is somehow so charming. Minghao smiles again and it makes the other smile too.

“Sure, I’ll help you,” he replies back perfectly in his native language.

There’s an underlying tenderness he feels for the other as well, though Minghao doesn’t know the word for it himself. 

It’s so early in the morning when Minghao wakes up that when he looks out the window, there’s just darkness and a faint smog floating through the air. He could sleep for another few hours but he feels energized enough that he doesn’t want to waste how he’s feeling, so he takes off to his favorite place: the greenhouse.

He busies himself with caring for some of the plants but really he’s there because it’s peaceful and relaxing. He likes coming here late at night because nobody else is around and sometimes he can pretend that he’s back home or at least outside of this place (which feels prison like at times). He’s so caught up in admiring a bed of violets that he doesn’t hear someone enter until they call his name.

He sees Mingyu all disheveled in his sleep clothes, hair messy and matted. Minghao feels warm suddenly and he scratches the small bump on the back of his neck.

“I didn’t know you’d be in here,” the taller boy whispers,. It comes off as more of just an observation considering he shuffles towards Minghao. The two stand quietly for a while before they sit down side by side, backs leaning against the wall.

Minghao is about to ask why he’s awake at this hour when Mingyu scoots down to rest his head against his shoulder. He stiffens, not necessarily because he’s uncomfortable, but it’s unexpected. Extreme physical affection isn’t exactly tolerated here once you get past a certain age. And being that they were both now sixteen, he knew they were too old to be exchanging hugs or playful little jabs, let alone sitting so close like this.

“I think I had a dream,” Mingyu whispers in Chinese, breath warm enough that Minghao can feel it through the material stretched across his chest. His heartbeat starts to quicken and he steals a glance down at Mingyu, who seems all too relaxed considering their position. He must need to practice the language more because what he says doesn’t make sense. Dreams don’t happen to anyone here.

“A dream? None of us have dreams, Mingyu.”

“But I am pretty sure I did.” Despite his initial shock at the position, Minghao finds being this close to Mingyu oddly comforting, so he’s reluctant to push the other away. But he wants to look at his face.

“Why do you think that?” 

It’s not meant as a malicious question but Minghao can see the wetness gathering in his friend’s eyes and he starts to panic. He thinks of that boy from when he was young, the one who wailed and cried and magically disappeared, and he thinks of Mingyu not showing up for training, never again sitting beside him during meals, not fluttering around Minghao all day like he can’t be without him.

“You need to calm down. Breathe,” he instructs the other, adding that he should practice the finger touch technique everyone in their little group knows by now. 

But Mingyu seems frozen, he doesn’t move, so Minghao picks up his hand with his own and presses each of their fingertips together, one by one. They both stare at their hands and it has a strange calming effect on both of them. 

He doesn’t ask Mingyu to explain or elaborate; not for lack of curiosity or concern but he doesn’t want him to get worked up again. And selfishly, it feels nice to just be with him like this. The greenhouse is warm and familiar, it makes him feel comfortable. And Mingyu is all of those things too.

“You did good,” is all he says when the other relaxes into his body again. Minghao sees the faint bump on the back of his neck before his friend’s head meets his shoulder and they sit like that until the skylights above begin to pour in the first rays of light.

The day when selections will be made is quickly approaching. It doesn’t seem real because after nearly ten years in training, Minghao can’t really imagine doing anything but that. Truthfully, he isn’t so much worried about whether or not he’ll be chosen for a mission (he’s extremely confident he will be) but rather who will be a part of his team. He knows it’s unrealistic that he and his friends will all be together but it’s a nice thought he lets float around anyway.

In an unprecedented event, they are informed they will each be allowed to contact home via video call. While the candidates were always allowed to send letters, they weren’t allowed to receive anything in return. They never got to hear their families’ voices or see their faces. Needless to say, it’s all anyone can talk about once the news is revealed.

“I can’t even remember my parents’ voices,” Joshua admits, his tone sounding more astonished than at all sad.

“I wonder what they look like now,” Seungcheol says and the others hum in agreement. All of them except Minghao, who is abnormally quiet. His friends don’t seem to take notice though; they have too many other things on their minds.

They are on their way to the recreation room where they will each be summoned individually to make their calls. 

“Do you think they’ll turn our monitors off for the calls?” Mingyu asks in a low voice, his shoulder brushing against Minghao’s as they walk. The boy had been bouncing (in a restrained, acceptable manner) with anticipation all day.

“Doubt it. It’s probably another test disguised as a reward.” He doesn’t mean to sound bitter and he certainly doesn’t want to dampen Mingyu’s obvious excitement. Despite not wanting to do so, it appears he does when the taller boy frowns.

“I don’t know if I can... stay composed though.” Minghao nods as if he understands but he doesn’t really. He still feels a lingering disdain towards his parents, for never crying or seeming torn up about watching their only son leave. He felt it so much that after writing twice when he was young, he never did again. Some boys wrote every week. He knew Mingyu did. Maybe Minghao actually was a bitter person at times.

“My mom was so happy when I was selected,” Mingyu tells him. “I remember her smiling and spinning me around. And even when I left, she hardly cried at all. I thought for a while that... that maybe she didn’t want me anymore, but I think it was just because she wanted better for me. She didn’t want me to spend my life locked indoors and potentially get sick young, like a lot of kids do. I don’t think she was glad I left but she was glad I didn’t have to stay there.”

Minghao can tell his breathing is uneven and suddenly he feels a little lightheaded. Mingyu’s still talking but it’s all garbled to his ears. 

For all Minghao’s talent and intelligence, he wonders how he never thought of such a scenario. He was always a good child, his parents seemed to love and care for him very much, so why was it so easy for him to assume that they suddenly didn’t want him anymore? Thinking about it now, it seems so absurd and ridiculous. And he feels awful. Beyond guilty.

His chest constricts so unbearably tight. He doesn’t realize his monitor begins to beep annoyingly at him until Mingyu addresses him.

“Minghao? Are you alright?” Suddenly Mingyu is there in front of him, his eyes soft and concerned, hands sliding along the other’s body in a way that is all regulation and medical concern, but it feels like it could be so much more. His fingers lightly press into Minghao’s throat to feel for his pulse and he shushes him the way one might soothe a crying baby. “You’re alright, just breathe with me.”

Minghao does, lifting a hand to press against the other’s chest, feeling its rise and fall and doing his best to mimic it. He thinks of his fingers, thumb to pointer to middle to ring to pinky, but this helps so much faster. The beeping ceases and Mingyu smiles at him, his thumb still rubbing small circles along the curve of his neck.

“You did good.”

Minghao video calls his parents and they cry when they see him. He cries too but his monitor doesn’t beep and he thinks maybe Mingyu was right, maybe they are letting them have this moment to be open and vulnerable and emotional. It doesn’t last long enough but he’s able to find some comfort and closure in the five minutes he has with them. And he thanks them too, for sending him here. For wanting the best for him, even if it meant he was so far away.

The selections for the crews are made and like he had anticipated, the five of them are not placed all together. But all of them make it, they are all chosen, so he’s happy enough with that. And he isn’t alone. He’s put on a team with Mingyu and he wish he could let his heart soar as freely as it wants to at the news.

They are all shuffled off to final medical exams and uniform fittings and briefings. The next day, they’ll begin finally training in their crews but after the strings are tied up today, they are allowed to have the night off.

Minghao is alone in his room when he sees a figure looming on the other side of the frosted glass door. He knows if it was one of his bunkmates or a superior, they would have just let themselves in with the hand scan. There’s a quiet knock finally and Minghao allows himself to smile because he’s sure of who it is.

Mingyu is radiating. His cheeks are full and his teeth still shine under the dim sleeping quarters light and his eyes are crinkled in the most wonderful way. Minghao is so caught up in admiring his expression that he doesn’t move quick enough to avoid the taller’s bone crushing hug.

“What are you doing--” he starts, a slight panic setting in at the sudden intimate contact.

“It’s okay. They haven’t turned them back on yet, it’s okay.” Minghao’s heart is thumping and there’s a lump in his throat. A voice in his head tells him to shove Mingyu away, he can’t get in trouble and lose his spot already, but instead he lets himself be held. And even with the rush of heat that finds its way to his face and the explosion of something in his gut at Mingyu’s warm embrace, his monitor never beeps. No voice comes through the hidden speakers within the room. It’s just the two of them, locked together in a one-sided hug.

Slowly Minghao lifts his arms and settles his hands on the other’s back. Mingyu’s grip tightens and pulls him impossibly closer and he’s not sure when the last time he was hugged was but god, it feels nice. It’s the best thing he can remember ever feeling. 

They spend their evening together in greenhouse, bumping knees and constantly seeking out for each other’s hands. Minghao touches him without much reservation which is the most liberating thing he thinks he’s ever experienced. He knows it won’t last so he enjoys it while he can, letting his hands innocently wander and feel while fluttering erupts in his stomach and he breaks out into tingles. 

With the temporary freedom to be open, Mingyu tells him about his dream. He tells him how they were all separated and Minghao was gone and it left this hollowness inside him that he didn’t know what to make of it. Minghao knows the feeling too. 

“You aren’t allowed to die. Not for a long time. Not until I’m ready to die too,” Mingyu informs him, his hand circling the other’s wrist. Minghao would laugh at the absurdity of such a comment but he understands it all too well.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?” Mingyu pushes further, in Chinese. It makes Minghao smile and he maneuvers his hand free to press their fingertips together in their familiar way. He hooks their pinkies and bends his head down to boldly kiss the other’s hand.

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh i had so much fun writing this! i think i may write a continuation piece where they are actually *in* space, if i have the time.
> 
> thoughts and comments are always appreciated and treasured!! thank you for reading!
> 
> feel free to hmu on twitter @/mingowow :)
> 
> AND BE SURE TO STREAM 'TRAUMA'!!!!


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